I was asked recently in an interview what magazines I look at for inspiration. I hate questions like that. The truth is, beside Print with Debbie Millman involved, I spend most of my time going through old issues of Architectural Forum, CA, and Graphis. And I mean old. Not last year, but 1955. I also have a large collection of Better Homes and Gardens from 1950-1965 that I enjoy. These make me sad sometimes because I see products that I want to buy, like a turquoise stove, but I can't.

Nostalgia aside, the covers of Architectural Forum are by far the most amazing. It was one of the best architecture magazines until it's demise in 1974.

It isn't surprising that the incredible Will Burtin was a creative director. His work with Scope magazine is classic and changed editorial design.

I love these covers because they presume the audience is smart. They are abstract and rely on symbols. They don't have glossy photos of a living room corner with uplighting. They aren't screaming "I'm rich, I'm rich. Look at my fancy house." or "I'm avant-garde, I'm hip." They are confident and beautiful. They do, however, suffer from the same issue as my other old magazines. I need that pink intercom system on page 55.

"I am fairly out, and you are fairly in. See which of us will be the happiest." This is a quote President George Washington said as he passed the presidency to John Adams. I thought about this today as tomorrow is my last day as AIGA president. On July 1, the job is Su Mathews-Hale's. She will be a dynamic, smart, and visionary president. And, clearly infinitely more patient than me. The floggings will stop.

I stepped in for a second term 2 years ago. I did this, not because I have a huge ambition for power. If I did this is the wrong job. AIGA was in the midst of a controversial issue, the sale of the building. This and the next challenge, the search for a new Executive Director, were critical. And I might be of some help.

My first term as president from 2007-2009 was like the Eisenhower years. It was a good time. Membership and revenue was high, chapters were growing and thriving, and the organization was efficient and had a remarkable support system of Ric Grefé, Denise Wood, an amazing staff, and nation of volunteers. We had board retreats in Palm Springs (yes, board members pay for it all themselves). The only thing missing was Mamie.

Mamie Eisenhower, 1954

This term was more like the Clinton years. Change is never easy and progress seemed to happen in hard jolts, not a seamless walk. Social media and online conversations create an immediate response to every decision. This is good because dialogue is the basis of a vital democracy. The downside is that rumor and conjecture quickly became facts. At times it felt like there was a vast right wing conspiracy. But, to keep it in perspective, it's AIGA, not the United States Senate.

President Bill Clinton

me at the end of my second term, 2015 (OMFG!)

People ask me how I feel about leaving after so many years. In fact, I'll be staying on the board to work with the Executive Director search committee, but my days of demanding that others bow to me are unfortunately over.

The best part will be the chance to devote more time to education, supporting young designers, and actually designing. I look forward to spending less time on conference calls (which I hate because I never know who is speaking, and am easily confused). But, I will never again feel the same pride, as I do now serving the profession.

Me and the fabulous Katie Baker, May 2015, Grand Rapids, Michigan

AIGA is more vital and stronger than any time in history. To all of you who have been part of this two year journey: We did it. We weren't just marking time. We made a difference. We made the organization and design profession stronger, and we leave it in good hands. All in all, not bad.

I will leave with the greatest pride for this organization of ours and eternal optimism for its future. Su, you're on.

There are some people who take design a little too seriously. Years ago, I knew a designer who refused to speak to me or look at me in the eye. Yes, it's understandable when you get to know me, but this was about design philosophy. I preferred clean, simple, and honest design with optimism. He was a self-identified post-modernist who saw the world as distopian and wanted to reflect that in his work. That was fine by me, I loved his work. It just wasn't what I did.

Even last week at the Paul Rand event I did at Design Within Reach, someone walked up to Louise Sandhaus and me, looked at both of us, turned from me, and said to Louise, "I'm happy to see YOU." Puhleeze. It's not like we're on a reality show.

P. Scott Makela was a post-modernist, genius, and all around nice guy. He never was anything but a good and generous friend. He did work that was different than mine, and that's what makes the field so exciting. He was one of the first people to give me encouragement early in my career.

I was helping a designer on a project last week based on the 1998 MTV Video Music Awards. It gave me a chance to look back at some of Scott's remarkable work. The typography in Michael and Janet Jackson's Scream video is beautiful, crisp, and launched a digital revolution in font design.

Scott's work with Laurie Haycock Makela, his wife, changed the profession. It stretched everyone's idea of digital possibilities, and it's damned beautiful.

Dead History Typeface

Cranbrook Design: The New Discourse, 1990

How Magazine Cover, 1994

Rethinking Design, 1992

Laurie Haycock Makela and P. Scott Makela

Scream video titles

On Wednesday I did a panel discussion with Louise Sandhaus and Michael Carabetta about Paul Rand. It was lively and the audience was full of great stories, strong opinions, and well dressed designers. Unfortunately I had the most horrific migraine and had to try to appear upbeat. Now some of you may say, "Just be yourself, everyone would understand." But a photo of Louise and Michael cheerfully discussing a Rand book cover while I stare into space vacantly won't translate well on facebook.

As a result, I left as soon as the event finished and didn't have a chance to say hello to many people in the room who I really like. I'm sure they saw me hurry out and though, "What an asshole diva." And...

Following up with a post about Paul Rand is rather pointless. It's amazing, but he gets more coverage online than funny cat videos. So I end this week with simply the cool stuff I found or like, and one Paul Rand.

Dan Solo, Solotype

Strathmore ad, 1968

Eames chair palette

Raymond Lowey, radio, 1968

Art Center catalogue cover, 1956

Wim Crouwel

Dan Solo, Solotype

Arts and Crafts letterforms

Grand Plaza Amway

Paul Rand, IBM Supply Kit

My course on grids, Foundations of Layout and Composition: Grids, was released on Lynda.com this week. I like grids, but I know many others don't. So I knew it was a hard sell to convince someone that the grid wouldn't hurt them. It was a friend, ready to step in and clean up.

You'd think it would be easy to slap the same structure on every project. But where's the fun in that? So how can you find inspiration in the grid world? If I find something interesting, I save it and dissect it. I want to understand how it was structured. It's like classic painting education when a student sat at the Louvre and copied a master to learn technique.

I especially love the weird-ass grid that makes no sense. Erik Nitsche's book series on science has a wonderful grid. I still don't understand it. It's remarkably complex, but works. Of course, you can't go wrong with Josef Müller Brockmann. He gives good grid. And every once in a while I'll find something entirely unknown and marvel at the structure like this Lufthansa catalogue from the 1970s.

The most wonderful finds are the unexpected. Looking at the Rape of the Sabine Women (1627) by Peitro da Cortona, I began to see the grid. And then again with The Death of Socrates (1787) by Jacques Louis David. It was like a transcendental moment when one glimpses into another world. Yes, I'm that geeky.

Last weekend I went to see Tomorrowland, the movie. It wasn't what I expected. For some reason, I thought it would be a magic portal to the 1967 Tomorrowland. After considering that, I realize this would make for a rather dull movie. George Clooney rides on the slow moving PeopleMover. Then he visits Adventure Thru Inner Space. The whole gang has lunch at the Coca Cola Terrace and listens to The New Establishment. Not too much action. No chases or ray guns.

In my mind, the 1967 Tomorrowland still exists. Somehow I'm always disappointed to reach the end of Main Street USA and realize the 1990s version has stomped out the bright future. 1967 Tomorrowland was a gleaming shining city on the hill. It was a world of turquoise, yellow, red, and light blue, clean white paint, metallic silver walls, and Univers 67. Corporations were not evil so logos were proudly displayed. There was no better way to spend time than to ride the PeopleMover on a sunny afternoon.

We've all seen how something is changed moments before it would be hip again. If they only waited a couple of years, by 2000 the 1967 Tomorrowland would be genius.

People are contradictory. They are liberal and conservative, optimistic and cynical, and angry and happy. It would be so much easier to be one thing, like a character on a TV show. But we are trapped in this conflict. I like to think of myself as a good American: patriotic, love of country, remembering the good times when you spent a day fishing and eating apple pie from the window ledge. But, I also have that other side, the counter-culture anti-establishment thing. Maybe it’s from being a child in the Haight in the 1960s, or maybe I’m just weird. But it works for me.

Richard Brautigan is one of my favorite authors. Granted the work is haaaaard to get through. In Watermelon Sugar is not an easy idea to understand, but oh so beautiful. There is that revolutionary approach that says, “I am not interested in the right way. This is my experience.” I love that. So if you have some extra several weeks on hand and plenty of mind-altering substances, I suggest a walk on the wrong side of the street and Richard Brautigan. How can you not love someone who said, ““I have always wanted to write a book that ended with the word ‘mayonnaise.”

“I will be very careful the next time I fall in love, she told herself. Also, she had made a promise to herself that she intended on keeping. She was never going to go out with another writer: no matter how charming, sensitive, inventive or fun they could be. They weren’t worth it in the long run. They were emotionally too expensive and the upkeep was complicated. They were like having a vacuum cleaner around the house that broke all the time and only Einstein could fix it. She wanted her next lover to be a broom.” ― Richard Brautigan, Sombrero Fallout

“I drank coffee and read old books and waited for the year to end.”

“He created his own Kool Aid reality and was able to illuminate himself by it.”

My dad told me, “You can go along with the fates, or you’ll be dragged along behind them.” The point was to accept change and gracefully move forward. That being said, it’s not so easy. In the last year and a half, I’ve been faced with many decisions and changes. Sometimes I went along easily. At other times the universe had to slam my head against the wall repeatedly until I got the message. I like to think I’ve come through the other end with a greater acceptance of change and see it as a wonderful adventure. But, then iPhoto became Photos.

I can’t get behind this one. It does all kinds of dumb things like losing titles that I painstakingly added with names and dates (which I like to use, oddly). Then it sucked up another 70 gigabytes of space. And then I find that the dates are goofed up. So I’ve ditched it and gone back to Aperature.

The good part of this (see, always play the Glad Game)*, was that I found hundreds of images that I forgot about. Many of them from my recent Italian trip. Like most of you, mine are bereft of people. Why take photos of your friends or spouse when there is a cool cup at the synagogue in Rome?

As a child with her missionary parents in Africa, Pollyanna asks for a doll for Christmas. When supplies arrive in the tiny village, the church has sent, not a doll, but crutches. Pollyanna is sad. Her father suggests playing the Glad Game. She should find a silver lining. In this instance, she should be glad she doesn’t need the crutches.

I have a friend, a well-known designer, who laments that he never gets to do work that is "fun". His work is serious and beautifully crafted with a deep connection to French structuralism and Freudian theory. I, on the other hand, lament that my work will only be seen as "fun", not "serious". Of course the reality is that nothing is that black and white. His work has light and playful elements, mine can be conceptual and multi-layered.

Herbert Leupin (1916–1999) (yes, another Herbert; it was a popular designer name) was disregarded and ignored as an "advertising poster artist". How could the work be taken seriously when it has a giraffe? Today, his posters are sought after by serious collectors. At first glance, they are funny and light. They exist to sell beer, Coca-Cola, cigarettes, and pens. He wasn't concerned about the theoretical underpinnings. And they are masterful and joyful.

He does what I endeavour to teach: see things in the world that can be seen entirely differently with the slightest move: a shoe becomes a car, a glass of beer enjoys a day at the beach, letterforms become carbonated bubbles. The imagery is light and carefree. And, as Shakespearean stage actor Edmund Kean said, "dying is easy, comedy is hard."